


Dust, Moon, and Silver

by u3umbrella



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 104th Training Corps - Freeform, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Eren Yeager is a Little Shit, Explicit Language, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Lovers, Jealousy, Mentions of Eren Yeager - Freeform, Mikasa Ackerman & Eren Yeager Are Siblings, Mutual Pining, One-Sided Enemies, Sparring, Suggestive Material, Useless Lesbians, lesbians!!, mentions of Armin Arlert - Freeform, mentions of masochism, mentions of sadism, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/u3umbrella/pseuds/u3umbrella
Summary: Mikasa readied herself in a fighting stance. A familiar stance you had grown accustomed to until a few weeks ago. “We are going to spar.”“At this hour?” you questioned. Incredible. She was incredible.“I don’t think the time of day has ever stopped you from a fight.”Scoffing playfully, you relaxed into a fighting position. A fiery glint gleamed in your irises, eager for what was about to embark. “Well, can’t hide from the truth, can I?” Yes, you could—but not anymore.
Relationships: Mikasa Ackerman & Reader, Mikasa Ackerman/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	Dust, Moon, and Silver

**Author's Note:**

> heyy !! this my first one-shot i have ever posted on here, so enjoy !! 
> 
> mikasa might be a little ooc, but this is my take on her personality. i tired my best to capture her essence in this, since she is one of my favorite aot characters and i'm literally in love with her lol.

Mikasa’s glare pierced a hole in your heart.

You did not go a day without retracing the memory. The memory of her stone cold grip on your arm, her pursed lips chapped from the sweltering sun, and that venomous stare.

Her steel grey eyes narrowed and trembled. The usual deadpan glance she offered morphed into pure rage, pupils constricting to an impossibly small size; practically nonexistent. You stood as still as you could manage. Stunned into submission, you tried to avert your gaze; to look at anything that wouldn’t pounce and kill you within seconds. But the pool of silver put a spell on you, _whispered_ for you to get on your knees and _beg_ for forgiveness. Maybe even kiss her dusty boots. Despite the horror of the situation, a twinge of arousal stirred in your gut.

 _So this is what love is,_ you had thought while her penetrating scowl carved a home in the depths of your brain.

Then, reality hit you. Literally. Ymir landed a kick to your ass, sneering as you stumbled forward into a nearby tree.

“Stop zoning out,” Ymir scoffed. “Christa was trying to ask you a fucking question.”

Rubbing your forehead, you scrunched your nose in pain. Christa, who was eyeing her counterpart disapprovingly, nudged Ymir’s shoulder and rushed to your aid, steadying you against her. “Don’t mind Ymir,” the blonde reassured sweetly. “She is just rough around the edges. I should know.” Christa glowered in the brunette’s direction, dropping her angelic facade for a mere second. “I was just wondering if you were okay?”

“Yeah, all good.” You patted her head and flashed a cheeky grin. “I should have known I would be getting into all sorts of trouble with little miss badass over here when I forced my way into your inner circle.”

“An unwelcome intrusion, might I add,” muttered the aforementioned “badass.”

Crossing your arms, you winked playfully at her, earning an eye roll. “You know you love me.”

Ymir, a jab just on the tip of her tongue, was silenced by Christa. Once again, the angel prevailed. Said angel grasped your arm as well as Ymir’s, steering the three of you to the mess hall. “We do love you! And we couldn’t be happier to call you our friend—”

“I prefer partner in crime,” you interrupted with a stern nod.

The blonde giggled. “Okay! Guess we are partners in crime starting from now on!”

“This is ridiculous,” Ymir spat, hiding her face from view. Although you were taller than Christa, you didn’t compare to the brunette’s height. A part of you envied her ability to tower over most of the cadets, but all signs of jealousy halted upon spotting the tiniest of blushes dusting her tan cheeks; you stifled a laugh. So the tall, brooding Ymir harbored a soft side, and her height couldn’t even shield it.

“Ymir,” you stated, lips quirked up mischievously, “you’re blushing.”

Flustered did not even begin to describe her outburst. “Shut the hell up, or I’ll beat the living shit out of you!”

“Oh, stop flirting with me, _partner_ ,” you praised.

Ymir sighed. “I need to fucking lie down.”

“Now, now you two,” Christa said, stroking both of your arms. “Let’s leave the fighting and arguing for combat training. When we step foot into the mess hall, we are starting over. Fresh, new, _kind”_ —she directed her gaze at Ymir—”and hungry. Because I’m starving.”

You and Ymir shared a look and nodded in agreement. Another argument that dragged on for too long. At least it was the first one this week.

“Yes, ma’am,” the both of you barked unanimously.

As you entered the mess hall, you blinked at the sharp, yellow lighting, eyes snapping around furiously at the dozens of trays. Even though a hint of hope bubbled in your chest, you were still left with the same boring meal the Cadet Corps served every fucking night. How thrilling.

“You guys find a spot. I’ll wait in line,” you said, removing your arm from Christa’s gentle clutch.

“You sure you don’t need help?” Christa asked. Ymir’s arm draped around her shoulders as she maneuvered her toward an empty table.

“Nope! Just keep my seat warm.”

“Kind of a weird thing to say, huh, _partner?”_ Ymir taunted.

“Don’t act so surprised,” you replied with a wave and sauntered in line, snatching three trays along the way. After you gathered all of your meals, you balanced them as carefully as possible on your trek to your table. A few cadets watched you in awe, while others offered a hand. The logical part of you wanted to give in and accept their kindness, but the stubborn side never failed to take over, consuming you until all you could think about was winning. Win, win, win.

“I will...succeed,” you huffed, worried that even a breath would ruin your mission.

And then, your focus suddenly wasn’t so focused. At the entrance of the tiny mess hall walked in Eren, Armin, and...Mikasa. Mikasa, who donned her signature stare. It was a little more tired than normal, eyelids drooping as she ran a hand through her silky black hair. You gawked at the simple, should-be-unattractive motion, momentarily forgetting the trays threatening to tip over in your arms. A shout from Ymir, once again, grounded you to reality.

Ymir sat up from her seat and marched towards you, grabbing two of the trays. Before swiveling on her heels, she fixed you with a sharp glare. “Hurry up already. What’s gotten into you, dumbass?”

You gulped. “Uh, n-nothing.” Ymir’s glare shifted from annoyed to wary. “Really, it’s nothing!” You peered over her shoulder and noticed Christa’s small wave. “Keep walking. Your princess awaits.”

Ymir’s head whipped in the blonde’s direction, a brief smile gracing her features. “My princess, huh? I like the sound of that.”

“‘Course you do.”

Swiftly heading to the table, you plopped onto the bench across from the—eventual—couple, and began devouring your bland food. An occasional glance at the girl with the breathtaking black hair only made you want to observe her more. You chewed the last of your potato, eyes narrowed in deep thought. You used to be good friends with Mikasa, mostly due to being paired for sparring or teamwork exercises. At first, it was only pithy pleasantries that soon transformed into a sincere desire to converse with one another. Except the one time you—

Ymir said your name. “Hey, are you really checking out again?”

You sighed, rubbing a hand across your face. “Oh, sorry. Just kind of out of it today.”

“More like for the past month,” she stated with incredulity. “Seriously, though. Is something up?”

Christa placed her hand over your free one, squeezing it comfortingly. “Please don’t shut us out. Even if we can’t help, you can tell us anything.”

Your heart stopped when Christa smiled. Legitimately stopped. Ymir must have been under the same daze, since a couple of coughs erupted from her throat.

Shaking your head, you sucked in a deep breath. “I think I like Mikasa.”

They blinked, dumbfounded. “Like...as a friend?” Christa prodded unsurely.

“No, not as a friend. I think I have feelings for her,” you answered bluntly.

Ymir slowly nodded her head, a smirk lighting up her face. “Ah, so you’re into girls. Seems we have a lot more in common than I thought.”

Christa sat still, processing the information. Suddenly, she chuckled. “No way! What are you going to do about it? Befriend her? Try to get the same clean up shifts?” she rambled in excitement. “Oh, confess? Are you going to confess?”

“Slow down, sweetheart, it’s way too early for that.” You waved her off, fighting the flush that creeped over your ears and neck. You failed, unfortunately. “I doubt it is anything serious at the moment. I mean, I haven’t spoken to her properly in a while. And last time she almost beat the shit out of me.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ymir murmured. “Didn’t you, like, fuck up Eren’s face, or something?”

You winced at the memory. Your aggressive streak was something you weren’t proud of, and you had only recently reigned it in—most of it. Clearly it was not enough, considering your tirade all over Jaeger’s face.

“It healed pretty quickly, though!” you defended, pouting ever so slightly. “And yeah, I kinda went off the rails.”

“Did he upset you?” wondered Christa. Her genuine curiosity was so endearing; you understood why Ymir was very fond of her.

“Well, yes, I guess.” A groan escaped your lips. “I was getting along with him really well up until I fucked it up, but that’s besides the point.” Pushing your tray to your left, you rested your elbows on the table, hands weaved into your hair. “Eren was talking—or more like complaining—about how Christa was a little too nice. That was when I started to get sort of irritated. And then, he pushed me over the edge when he droned on and on about how Mikasa was bothering him, per usual, and basically slandering her caring nature. Man, I must’ve gotten so jealous that I accidentally lunged and beat him up in the process.”

Ymir scoffed in amusement. “Trying to act humble, I see.”

“You would have done the same thing if you were in my position, Ymir,” you rebutted.

She blew a strand of hair away from her face. “Can’t argue with that.”

“So…” trailed Christa, “what made you so jealous?

“I got jealous because Eren has no idea how lucky he is,” you said. Removing your hands from your now tangled hair, you exhaled. “I’ll clean up here.”

“O-Okay,” Christa stuttered, confused at your abrupt need to excuse yourself. You were never one to dwell on anything, good or bad, for too long. Easy-going was your middle name, really. Therefore, you made a friend out of everyone in the 104th—well, not everyone.

As you strode away with the trays, you missed Ymir and Christa’s concerned expressions. But their opinions were the last thing on your mind.

Mikasa was laughing a breathy laugh, knuckles hiding her pink-tinted cheeks. Armin was throwing a startled look at his friends, and you shifted your attention to Eren’s shaky form, face buried in his arms. You assumed the blonde cracked a joke that he didn’t even realize was a joke. God, you had to love that Armin.

But not as much as you loved Mikasa.

Or liked. A flutter of fear resided in your stomach at the thought of actually falling for someone—let alone a woman. Love was an emotion that felt foregin to you. As if you were reading a book in a different language and the more you tried to understand it, the more your brain twisted in confusion. The ability to not comprehend was too frustrating to bear, and so, distancing yourself was the next best thing. At least, that was what you surmised.

You hated being wrong. You hated feeling your confidence crumble into ashes, left with only your shame, stripped raw for all to see.

And even though you hated admitting it...you were so very fucking wrong. Maybe—just maybe—you felt something a little akin to love for the Ackerman.

You disposed of the trays and trudged out of the mess hall, barely sparing a glance to the trio. Christa and Ymir were long gone, probably washing up before lights out like the rest of the cadets.

You traipsed by the dorms. You knew you should be in there, teasing Ymir and coming up with ridiculous theories with Christa, but your legs had a mind of their own. You were a storm on a rampage, plowing through the dirt. Stopping at the training grounds, you suppressed a scream. All hail to your pleasant mood swings!

Except this was no typical meltdown. Within moments of eyeing a particular ravenette, you succumbed to the truth, bathing in its icy chill until all you could think of was how _numb_ you were.

“I can’t do this,” you heaved, resting your hands on your knees for stability. “I don’t know how to deal with this.”

“Deal with what?”

Your breath hitched. Your body froze, not from the cold evening breeze, but from a certain someone lingering behind you. Her presence was as intimidating as ever. Just your type.

You swiveled around to meet Mikasa’s less-than-genial leer. You replaced your previously troubled facade with a blank, yet still vexatious expression. “Nothing of importance.”

Mikasa scoffed, vaguely tilting her head to the side. “I couldn’t help but notice your little performance out here.”

“So you came to check on me, huh?” you tutted. “How chivalrous of you.”

Your snide remark garnered an eye twitch from Mikasa. Then, the sound of knuckles cracking broke the silence. “Squat.”

You blinked. “Wh—”

Mikasa readied herself in a fighting stance. A familiar stance you had grown accustomed to until a few weeks ago. “We are going to spar.”

“At this hour?” you questioned. Incredible. She was incredible.

“I don’t think the time of day has ever stopped you from a fight.”

Scoffing playfully, you relaxed into a fighting position. A fiery glint gleamed in your irises, eager for what was about to embark. “Well, can’t hide from the truth, can I?” Yes, you could—but not anymore.

Without a word, you circled each other, eyes locked in their own battle before the physical one commenced. It was just a spar, you thought to yourself. Just a quick spar. Alone. In the dim lighting of the training grounds.

You weren’t sure if you were thankful for the opportunity, or if you were finally going to be sent to Hell.

However—Hell had its perks, of course.

“How long are we gonna do th—” Mikasa lunged before you had the chance to complete your sentence. Her foot glided in the air, landing a harsh kick to your knee, causing you to stumble. Catching yourself, you let out a low hiss as you charged at her, fist aimed for her face. She dodged your incoming strike, merely missing your other fist flying at her gut. A scowl tugged at her pink lips.

“Almost got me,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Almost.”

You smirked, and your tongue darted out to wet your chapped lips. “You taught me well.”

You swore you heard the girl laugh. “I guess I should’ve trained you harder.” Mikasa did not hesitate to tackle you to the ground, a cloud of dust draping your tangled bodies, fighting for dominance. You were at a disadvantage, seeing as she pummeled you into the dirt and was currently holding your shoulders down.

“Get...the fuck...off!” you growled, struggling to raise your arms and grab at anything that could help you win.

Mikasa’s face adorned a look of concentration; breath heaving, eyes squinting from the dust, teeth digging into her now bruised bottom lip. “I don’t want to.”

Your body stopped its thrashing. Hair splayed across your face as you gulped. Did she really say that? Or were your ears playing tricks on you?

Realizing what she just let slip, Mikasa settled down, her mussed hair shielding her face. Her hands went from gripping your shirt to laying flatly on your shoulders. The scuffling ended as abruptly as she blurted out those four words. Mikasa was straddling your waist, refusing to move another inch. Your heart fluttered at the sight. At the impossibility of it all. Yet here she was, towering over you, dust covering your bodies from head to toe.

Minutes passed without a word. Not a hand or leg or hair moved. You gulped again. The silence was suffocating, and you hesitated to break it.

Then, Mikasa exhaled deeply.

Suddenly, you gathered the courage to speak up. “I didn’t mean to hurt Eren as much as I did, just so you know…”

The Ackerman’s eyebrows quirked up in disbelief, and her steel grey irises swirled in contempt.

“Okay, okay,” you said, chuckling nervously. “Maybe I _did_ mean it.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Mikasa said, “Yeah, you definitely did.” A twinkle in her eyes pulled a smile out of you. “What are you smiling about?” she interrogated, emphasizing your last name.

“Nothing,” you replied.

“I don’t understand how you can act so happy,” Mikasa mumbled, raking a hand through her hair.

Your smile faltered, exchanged with a melancholic purse of your lips. “I didn’t expect you to be so naive, Mikasa.”

Her eyes widened both in shock and confusion. “What do you mean ‘naive’?”

“I mean—” you paused, inhaling a frustrated breath. “I mean that you of all people should know when a person is masking their own internal suffering.”

“Oh,” she said plainly. Almost unnerved. “Right.”

Another long pause.

“You know...I actually do notice.”

You raised a hand to your hair, twirling a strand to distract yourself from the meshing of discomfort and joy. “You do?”

“Yes, I do.” Mikasa sighed. “My anger got the best of me, though.”

“It’s my fault for hurting Eren. I can’t blame you for protecting him...considering how close you two are.”

“Why did you hurt Eren?”

The long awaited moment had arrived: telling Mikasa the truth.

“Well, I’m sure you know about how we were getting along really well up until the whole incident.” Mikasa nodded. “And I guess I was just fed up with his complaining.”

“He does complain a lot,” admitted Mikasa. “But...I still don’t understand how that justifies what you did.”

“This is so embarrassing,” you blurted, rubbing your face with the backs of your dusty hands. Your eyes watered slightly, but you welcomed the pain. “Eren was saying some things about Christa...like how she is not the ‘angel’ or friendly person everyone says she is. He said that knowing I was pretty close with her, and it struck a nerve.

“But that’s not why I fought him.” You grimaced. “Eren was mostly complaining about you.”

Mikasa did not feign surprise.

“He was saying how you were overprotective and overbearing, and how it’s like he has a mother rather than a sister. And I don’t know, I just couldn’t handle hearing him say those things about you.” You locked eyes with hers. “It really was some ruthless stuff.”

“I know Eren does that,” Mikasa muttered. “He even says it to my face. I really should distance myself, but...I just want to help him. I care about him too much.”

“He’s your only family left, right?”

“Yes. Other than Armin, I only have him.” Mikasa clutched your shoulder. “I made a promise to his mother to protect him. I can’t just abandon that.”

“I know,” you murmured. “I understand.”

Mikasa tilted her head to the sky, astonished by how many stars appeared above. Usually everyone was in their respective dorms this late into the night, and so, gazing at the stars was a luxury only the rebellious enjoyed.

Tonight you were one of them.

All of a sudden, Mikasa peeled her steel grey orbs away from the sky and caught your far off stare. She was moderately closer than before, as if lowering her face to be level with yours was the only way to gain your full attention. And that she did.

You stifled a squeak at the abrupt motion. Mikasa practically trapped you with one intense look. “So you fought Eren...because of me?”

_Fuck._

“I—” you faltered. Sweat trickled down your hairline. God, you absolutely hated how nervous you felt. “Yes.”

“...Why?”

“So many questions, huh, cutie?” you teased. Flirting was your coping mechanism, but its usual erasure of all things not so good wasn’t taking its effect.

“Just answer me.”

You groaned. “I was jealous, okay?”

Mikasa was stunned. “You were jealous? Of Eren?”

“I was jealous of Eren,” you whispered, clearing your throat. “He is a little shit who doesn’t realize how lucky he is.”

“You think he’s...lucky?” Mikasa suppressed the urge to smile. “Because of me?”

“Why else would I be in this situation?”

The ravenette shifted on top of you. You bit your lip before letting a very uncalled for moan fall out; you nearly forgot that she was perched above you, toned thighs squeezing your waist. Mikasa’s eyebrows, normally threaded with tension, relaxed. She bestowed a solemn expression. You had never seen Mikasa so raw and sincere before.

“But I’m just a nuisance,” she breathed shakily. “Even Eren thinks so. He doesn’t seem to care about me, or appreciate me, and I just feel so useless—”

“You are not useless,” you interrupted, eyes glimmering with conviction. “Mikasa, you are the best cadet in the 104th, for fuck sakes! I mean, I have never met someone so compassionate and logical and powerful and beautiful in my entire life; those who don’t notice it are not worth your time.” Mikasa’s breath hitched, stray tears prickling at her eyes. You offered her a genuine smile and reached up to cup her cheeks, swiping the tears away. “Eren may be childish and say some rash things, but I know deep down he cares about you. Your existence is important to him. It doesn’t excuse his behavior...but don’t forget that.”

“Thank you,” Mikasa said, smiling when your name rolled off her tongue.

You quickly let go of her face, ears red with embarrassment. “No need to thank me.”

“I really am grateful, though,” she affirmed, beaming at you. Momentarily, you could have sworn she was brighter than the moon, its light illuminating your entwined, dirty figures. Her pale skin glowed, remainders of forgotten tears marked under her silver eyes. Silky black hair caged you in, forcing you to keep eye contact with her (of course, no complaints were made).

Snapping you out of your reverie, Mikasa said, “I’m sorry for ignoring you. And blaming everything on you.”

“Well, you were quick to judge,” you joked. “But I accept your apology. I don’t like avoiding you.” Out of the blue, a laugh erupted from your throat.

“What’s so funny?” inquired Mikasa skeptically.

“N-No,” you stuttered in between giggles, “it’s just—this so ridiculous.” Holding a hand over your heart, you calmed down enough to speak—and think—coherently. “Don’t make fun of me, alright?”

Nodding, the ravenette waited for your response, a tad impatient.

“God, I’m going to sound like a fucking masochist,” you grumbled. “Maybe because I am one… Anyway, during the whole ‘shunning’ thing, I secretly kind of enjoyed how...hostile you were.” You surveyed her expression carefully; it was no surprise that she was still curious, her mouth pressed firmly together, hoping for an elaboration. “What I’m trying to say is you’re really hot when you’re mean.”

A quiet spell lasted for a few seconds before Mikasa choked on her own laugh. “Y-You really are a masochist, huh?” She attempted to stifle her outburst by covering her face with her arm. Startled, you studied Mikasa, but ultimately guffawed at your humiliating confession. The Ackerman had to stabilize herself by placing a hand on your shoulder, since she nearly fell off of you. Mustering a semblance of self-control, Mikasa gave you a rather crude smirk. “You know, it’s a good thing I’m a sadist. Maybe we are a decent match.”

“Wait…” you trailed, calculating the meaning behind this newfound information. “Did you happen to have noticed my reactions?”

“How couldn’t I,” she responded. “You are so obvious.”

“Shit. And I had so much faith in myself.”

“Oh, don’t give me that sour tone. It was cute.”

Your cheeks burned at the compliment. Heat engulfed you despite the cool weather, and you internally cursed Mikasa for purposefully eliciting such a reaction out of you. There was no time to even provide an excuse, or an opportunity to hide.

“I would really like to sit here on top of you and continue watching you blush, but I think it’s getting late,” Mikasa announced reluctantly.

“It’s been ‘getting late’ since the moment you followed me here,” you said, releasing your inner smart ass.

The girl scoffed, a soft grin adorning her features. She hopped off of you and stretched out a hand to pull you up. Before accepting the gesture, you admired how the moon shined around Mikasa—as if a halo surrounded not only her head, but her entire being. She was utterly radiant, and you melted into her touch. Thankfully, she was the one helping you on your feet, or else you would have stumbled to the ground, legs as stable as puddy.

Unexpectedly, when you stabilized yourself with her help, Mikasa yanked your body towards her. Wrapping her muscular arms around you, she hugged you, nestling her face into the crook of your neck. You stood there, stiff as a fucking twig, awkwardly awaiting an explanation, or an order. Ignoring a pang of anxiety, you returned the embrace with an equal amount of gentleness. You never imagined Mikasa’s hugs to be so...soft. Warm. As if you were a fragile jar swarming with butterflies, and her only goal was to keep you safe and not fucking break you.

You came to the conclusion that _you could get used to this._

Breathing in your now dirited scent, Mikasa released you from the surprise hug only to stare longingly and sharply into your eyes. No words were needed to explain how you felt inside, stomach churning with anxiety and some nameless positive emotion (you were too occupied to figure out what it was, really). A familiarity danced in Mikasa’s pools of onyx. She was experiencing the same uncomfortable battle of sentiments.

Your deepest desire and fear was confirmed right then and there.

“Come on,” she choked, throat dry, “before we get caught.”

“Right,” you agreed. Your own throat was also dry from both the dust and your sudden loss of words. Mikasa tentatively reached for your wrist and led you to the girls’ rooms. Internally sighing, you recalled that you weren’t roommates with the Ackerman, opting to stay with Christa and Ymir and another girl when dorms were being assigned. What luck.

Your mental berating was silenced when you arrived at your dorm. Mikasa stood slightly ahead of you, hand still clasping your wrist, head down. Unsure of what was transpiring, you waited awkwardly for something to happen. Anything. Then, something did.

Mikasa slowly lifted her head and spun around on the balls of her feet. She was a few inches away from you, so tantalizingly close you practically dissolved on the spot. She fixed you with a rigid glare before leaning in, pressing a shy peck to your forehead. Pulling away, Mikasa caressed your cheek with her knuckles, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear.

Smiling, she whispered, “See you tomorrow,” and stalked off without even looking back. Bewildered, you gazed after her, leaning on your door for support, on the brink of collapsing both physically and mentally. As soon as she was far enough, Mikasa turned around, waving to get your attention. “No holding back during sparring, or else I’ll pin you to the ground like earlier!” she projected, careful not to shout too loud.

Whether to blush or return a snide remark was now your main question of the evening. The heat creeping on the back of your neck answered your inquiry; your brain was too jumbled to even form an intelligible quip anyways.

Mikasa was out of sight within seconds, but your feet were peeled to the wooden panels of your porch, an inkling of hope that she would come back and give you a proper kiss sprouting in your gut. Of course, you could only dream.

 _But at least my dream came true,_ you concluded with a grin, a hand touching your forehead to feel for an imprint of pink chapped lips. Nothing was there, yet you still felt the remnants of her brief peck.

“Mikasa,” you murmured, eyes gleaming tenderly, “I hate you for doing this to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for taking time to read this !! i was actually busy writing a levi one-shot in which the reader is his daughter (because i am a depressed lesbian who misses her absent-but-not-absent father), but i got sidetracked and wrote this instead. i might post it eventually, so let me know if anyone would like that. i need a lil more motivation to finish it lol.
> 
> writing is kind of hard for me sometimes, since i get distracted easily, but i am trying to exercise my brain and formulate some stories. basically just an opportunity to elaborate on my headcanons. 
> 
> so if you're reading this rn, i love you and have a good day/night !!


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